Lazy Ass Reform School

I never thought I would be afflicted with the plight that is The Lazy Boyfriend.  But, here I am.  However, when I came to the conclusion that he's lazy, my biggest fear wasn't what he'd say to me confronting him or whether or not I should stay in the relationship, my biggest fear was that he was just going to shrug it off and go back to sleep with one hand down his pants and the other in a bowl full of Cheetos.

But this didn't happen! YAY.

I am both blessed and cursed with the inability to keep things bottled up.  It is probably the only trait I did not inherit from my Irish-American upbringing.  That being said, the minute he came home from work (at the pizza place) and crawled into bed, the word vomit creeped up and ended up everywhere.  He was silent.  Probably tired.  Then there was the "you're right. i should be more motivated" lip service.  I rolled over, fed up, and figured I'd let him think about it.

Fast-forward to today, two days later, the day he meets my family (which went well).  We're killing time before a movie.  I bring it up again, more directly and concisely.  It might have been a little harsh but, goddamn it, I got my point across.  More silence.  More shrugging. I was bullshit. 

Later on, I could tell he was lost in thought.  He looked at me and said "thank you for being so honest with me. You're right. I needed someone to tell me that."  I told him that I had said my bit and the ball's in his court.  I won't bring it up again (he doesn't believe me...neither do I).

Online tonight, he asked me where a town was and how far it was from him...he's applying for a job there.  He started applying for jobs the minute he got home tonight.  I'm so proud of him.

If he keeps it up, he'll be the guy I thought I was dating from the get-go, a guy who just got in a rut. Everyone's entitled to a rut every now and then.  It's how we get out of it that counts.  I'm excited to see how the days progress, if anything changes. But it's looking promising.

He even got a haircut. :-)

How Do I Tell Him He's a Lazy Ass?

Okayyyy, so a complete 180 degree spin from my last post! The honeymoon went on hiatus today in my brain, because I came to this realization: My boyfriend is LAZY.

For months I have been pulling out the poor-baby-you'll-find-a-great-job-soon stuff.  But how blinded I've been! Okay, I was an English major.  Math is not my strong point.  So, until today I didn't add up the hours he works/hours he sleeps.  He has a night job at a pizza place because his job fell through in September.  Okay, he works in film/tv in Boston.  Of course, there's nothing.  He works a bunch of contract stuff when there's stuff available.  He's trying.  He's told me a million times. BUT the pizza gig goes until 2am.  That puts him in bed by 3am.  He wakes up at 2PM and has to work at 5pm.  He complains that there aren't enough hours to apply to jobs.

I believed this.  FALSE. He wakes up, plays video games, catches up on tv shows, and then goes to work.  But, this puts him at between 11 and 12 hours of sleep each night! He could get up at 10 or 11am and search.  Plus, he claims he really wants a 9-5 so he can have a normal sleep schedule and see me more than once a week (because of our completely opposite schedules). But if he really wanted a 9-5, wouldn't he apply for more?

This all dawned on me today when he messaged me at 2:30pm when he woke up.  He's said all week he would get a haircut before this weekend (which I was happy about since he's meeting my family).  NOPE. He hasn't been awake in time!

So, my problem is: do I talk to him about this?  It's bothering me, but it's HIS life! I don't believe he's truly happy.  I think he's depressed and in a slump.  But is it really the place of the girl he's been with for 3 months to kick his ass into high-gear? I'd love to and don't know how well I can keep my mouth shut otherwise (I have chronic word vomit), but how do I do it without insulting him?

This is so tricky! Am I dating a loser? UGH!

Why Can't You Turn Your Heart Off?

I'm beginning to think we, as women, are all the same.  I used to roll my eyes and cringe at those girls who would stomp around public places, pouting, while their puppy dog boyfriends would chase after pleading for their apologies to be accepted.  Or I'd listen to why my best friend was upset at the boy-of-the-month and say "wait, so that's ALL he did?"  I never ever got it.  Why did such independent, strong females let idiots hurt them so much?  Why did they CARE so much?

Now I get it...and I hate that I get it.

Being the ever-attentive student of psychology in college, I was mentally prepared for the emotional attachment that was supposed to inevitably come with sexual intercourse.  I even warned him beforehand, telling him to tell me if I ever started to become "that girl."  But then the first few weeks of bringing our relationship further came and went and I was still firmly planted in the ground with my head on my shoulders.

But something came undone this past weekend. I just snapped into exactly what I didn't want to be.  The example I used at the beginning of this entry is a littttllle over the top.  I have not reached that point and hope to never do so, but I've become sensitive and clingy and vulnerable. It's TERRIBLE.  I've been spending double the time at the gym for the past for days to try to sweat my feelings out. It hasn't worked (big surprise).

I'm so afraid I'm going to become that clingy girl that suffocates her boyfriend and makes him too afraid to even open his mouth.  Dear Lord, this relationship stuff is a bitch.

Taking the Plunge

My last post (which was forever ago!) mulled over to wait or not to wait.  That was the question.  A few days later, I took the plunge and am no longer a card-carrying member of the Virgin Club.

It's too early to tell if he's the one, but from the moment I met him I knew he'd be around awhile and I still believe he will.  I don't regret doing it at all.  I have never met anyone so loving and perfect for me.  He treats me better than any guy ever has.

I, of course, have become more emotionally attached after doing the deed.  But our relationship is progressing in a way that it fits perfectly into our blossoming connection.  The "L" word has been on the tips of both of our tongues on more than one occasion (he slipped once and recovered awkwardly).  It's great that both of us are waiting to say it since we both know that the hours of staring dreamily at each other and giggling are tell-tale signs of infatuation, not love.

It's hard to believe after years of sticking to my guns about sex that, at the end of the day, losing my virginity to him was ten times easier than letting myself completely fall for him.  So, as much as having sex seemed like taking the plunge, I find myself in mid-fall.

I have no reason not to trust him, to think he's the greatest guy ever, to believe he wants the best for me.  And yet, I find myself waiting for him to let me down, just so I can make excuses for him and deny his faults.  But any faults he has are harmless ones.  He truly cares about me and my well-being and reminds me every day how crazy he is about me.  And I believe him.  But even though I'm mid-fall, something inside of me is urging me to reach for something to grab onto on the way down, to resist getting all the way there.

So far, nothing negative has been there for me to grab.  I can only hope the rest of the fall is just as clear.

SEX-need I say more?

Anyone who is reading this probably clicked on the link solely because of this entry's title.  The mere fact that you were curious about it confirms my belief that we, as human beings, are obsessed with sex. 

I'm not talking about the flesh-hungry, hump-your-partner's-leg type of obsession.  Sure, a lot of men have a tendency to feel that way, but women's view of sex tends to be a bit more multi-faceted, don't you think?

Well, I'm a rare case.  A lot of times I feel I'm a pathetic case (others I feel empowered but now is not one of those times).  I'm in my early 20s, fresh out of the battle field that is college...

...and I'm a virgin.

Background: Through high school and early college, it was for religious reasons.  I was waiting until marriage.  I'm currently a recovering Catholic (no offense to the devout) and no longer feel that way.  However, since I changed my views about 2 years ago, I have not experienced a relationship that has lasted longer than a couple months.  Thus, not setting a proper foundation for losing the ol' v-card.  At least, that's how I feel.

I'm currently in a relationship with a guy I've been dating about 6 weeks.  I've explained my situation and he, like every guy I've ever dated, has said "that's fine."  Case closed.  Of course, he doesn't want to ask when the big event will occur (or if it will) in fear of sounding shallow and sex-hungry. 

I really like this one.  Feel like it could last, but 6 weeks in, there's no guarantee that it's going anywhere.  It's the dreaded infatuation stage, which seems like the best part of a relationship, but it's really just the part when both people are in denial of the each other's faults.  A terrible time to throw myself into even more emotional, blinded attachment.

But am I being unfair to him?  Is it selfish that my own insecurities are hindering us from doing it? I have no idea why it's such a big deal to me.  I guess because I'm afraid it'll happen and then he'll break up with me and I'm be left a wreck.

Am I making any sense?  Am I making a big deal out of nothing?

UGH.

Fighting for that Inner Peace

Sometimes I feel like my hardest relationship is with myself.  I feel like my inner balance is fluttering around inside of me in panic like a moth caught between a child's hands.  I'm young, in my 20s, and yet I feel like I'm not accomplishing what I should be.  I'd love to blame it entirely on Irish-Catholic guilt (because it seems to explain everything), but truth be told I think it's because I'm not doing what I WANT to be doing.

I've always followed the rules.  I had detention once in my life. In kindergarden.  We were having quiet time and I heard some girls whispering (not following the rules!), so I shhhhed them so that they wouldn't get in trouble.  I got in trouble.  For talking.  At that point, I learned life's a bitch and have kept that view through the past couple of decades.  But for some reason, despite the lack of result it yielded at age 6 and since, I keep to the rules, both official and unofficial.

Unofficially (aka from the push of my mother), I was supposed to go to college, get a degree in business, and make lots of money.  Well, I went to college, but I've always hated corporate America, so I majored in English (to my mother's dismay, because she did, too, and has always felt unaccomplished).  Now, I could have still gone into business.  There's marketing, advertising, PR...tried them, hated them. NEXT! 

There are two things I'm really good at: understanding people and understanding the English language and literature. I tried psychology on for size and loved the practical aspect but hated the scientific inquiry that went with it.  I'd rather deal with participles than variables.  At the moment, I work in publishing, a vain attempt to curb my enthusiasm for words.  Well, I'm a glorified secretary. It's B.S.

So, now not only is my mother unhappy because my salary is still very, very much in the 5-digit number range but I'm unhappy, despite the academic stand I took.  So, what's missing? 

Meaning.

I want meaning.  I want to make a difference and do something.  Yeah, yeah. I'm a bleeding, naive, idealist (and yes, Democrat, of course) who hasn't lived long enough.  But I don't understand what's so wrong with my goal for meaning and impact.  My family and friends shake their heads and say "in this economy, stay put and be comfortable where you are."  Well, I'm comfortable financially and socially, but what about spiritually and mentally?  The inner peace is nowhere to be found.  I sit in a cubicle all day, typing into spreadsheets, and then go home to a television set and a glass of wine. 

But I have energy and strength and patience.  I've dealt with mentally and behaviorally challenged children in high-stress situations.  I've restrained people and confiscated knives.  So, why am I sitting at a desk when, with a little risk, I could be making a difference?  I have the ability.  Is it so strange that I feel obligated to use it?

I know this is all over the place, but it comes from the wandering thoughts on my post-workout drive tonight.  My roommate/best friend is seen by me (usually) and others as a good person.  She goes to church on Sundays, does her work well, and supports her friends.  Fine.  But she feels NO obligation to help others. At all. Every person for himself/herself. 

She earned that $20.  Why should she give it to charity?  It was her friend's decision to get drunk and drive.  What gives her the right to take away her keys and make her stay the night?  She feels no responsibility at all to others. I, however, feel I MUST be ready to pull back that total stranger from the curb in case he really is too close or give that $20 to charity.  She calls this intrusive and controlling.  That I need to grow up.  But I can't shake the constant feeling that I'm not living up to my potential.  I absolutely SUCK at working a dead-end job without any blood, sweat, and tears. 

Maybe I'm a masochist. Maybe I'm intrusive. Maybe I'm just plain crazy. 

But I'm becoming a high school English teacher for inner city kids, and nobody, not even my mother, can stop me.  It's time to fight for that inner peace.

Transition from Infatuation to Love

I'm not usually an overly impatient person.  I can put up with most things and people.  However, at the moment I am so ambivalent about my current relationship.  I will admit that I'm pretty picky when it comes to dating.  I get bored with most guys after a few weeks and call it a day. 

But he's different. 

We've been together a little over a month which is nothing time-wise.  I actually feel incredibly pathetic for having these crazy emotions so early.  It makes me feel emotionally immature.  I'm crazy about him.  Like high-school crush crazy.  I haven't felt it for a long time.  But I know that this is infatuation at the moment, not love.  I'm impatient for love.  For something legitimate.  Infatuation just sounds so fake.  

I have always prided myself on being able to see myself as an independent woman without any need for a man.  I love when I'm single and judge my friends for their dependency on their guys.  They'll drop every plan we have to see their significant others.  Even though I'm head-over-heels for this one, I refuse to be THAT girl. But inside I want to be. 

I just wish I wasn't so conflicted.  I want to shout my feelings from the rooftops but I know that my feelings aren't fully developed.  My heart's playing tricks, making me think I'm madly in love and in a deep, meaingful relationship when it's physically impossible to be that intimate and connected with someone you've known for a little over a month.  But how do I tell my heart and brain to calm down and wait for the inevitable to happen without trying to rush it?

I can't believe just how complicated and wonderful one person can make my life.

The Random Song Relationship

You know what one of my favorite things in the world is?  Going out to a bar, club, store (pretty much any place) and learning that a complete stranger knows the same, completely unknown song as you do that's playing.  To me, this is grounds for one of the best, most intimate 5-minute relationships around.

Having dabbled in my fair share of Euro pop, opera, and traditional Celtic, it's a real treat to be in a bar and have one of my favorite randoms come on.  A few drinks in me and I'm always willing to step up to the plate and sing along, obviously enhancing the experience of those around me.  But nothing tops when you have one of those West Side Story moments and look across the room and lock eyes with the only other person belting the lyrics.  You grin at each other, look away quickly in embarassment (for knowing the song AND for staring a little too long and bordering on creepy), and spend the rest of the night wondering what other musical gems you have in common.  No other examples of this occur the rest of the night, of course, leaving you to wonder what might have been.

At least, this is the way it is for me.  Maybe I'm completely alone in this, but there's something about having that connection.  Think back to the music of when you were young, let's say pre-teen years.  There was cool music on the radio and then there was the music that your parents listened to.  You tried so damn hard to identify with the cool music, make it part of who you were so that it would somehow make YOU cool. 

If you're like me, that's '90s music, the good, the bad, and the ugly (the last one describing most of it...).  How do you feel when you hear this music nowadays? Does it make you smile, reminding you of the first time you tried (and failed) to apply blush?  A school dance?  Well, the person across the room singing that same song probably has similar memories if he or she knows it, as well.  How cool is that?!

I've been to many bars and clubs in my time on this Earth and had my share of gentleman at said bars and clubs, but, to be honest, I remember the song connection with the old man across the bar last year much more vividly than the smooth Frenchman who tested my knowledge of his culture's language (and kissing...). Maybe this makes me weird, but I find 5-minute relationships exciting and unexpected.  You can count on there being a guy out that night, looking to check you up and down, but the song connection is rare.  This is why I felt the need to pay it homage.  Call me crazy, but it always makes my day.

The Beginning...

A new relationship can be the most rewarding, firework-inspiring, magical experience there is.  You and your new partner both do your best to cater to each other and strengthen that bond the two of you feel so strongly.  There's an ear-to-ear grin on your face whenever you see each other.  And you get this incredibly sunny outlook on life that challenges the gag reflexes of all of your friends. 

I'm lucky enough to be in the middle of a fresh romantic start like this, starry-eyed with affection, excited for the start of each new day.  However, despite the amazing person I've met and the bond we're in the process of creating, I'm still plagued by an older, deeper relationship that stalks me daily and occupies my mind, leaving little space for the newcomer.  I'm incredibly happy with my new boyfriend, so why am I constantly obsessing about food?

It's the ugliest relationship of them all, the one with the scale.  I invest all my hope into the digital plastic on the floor only to get a reaction completely opposite from the one I'm looking for.  I become resentful.  All that time and energy I spent to yield a positive result...for what?!  And the scale shows no sympathy.  I can't appeal to its emotions or buy it expensive gifts in hopes of change.  It just looks at me with that taunting, three-numbered smirk of doom and leaves me in pieces.

Just reading over what I've written, I realize just how preposterous this all sounds.  There's an economic crisis and global poverty but my bathroom scale trumps that.  The numbers displayed mean more than the numbers on my bills.  When did weight become so important that a woman couldn't enjoy a new relationship without emotionally detaching herself from her relationship with food?